When Worlds Collide
by MotanTwelve
Summary: The Doctor is not well, and he begins to realise that there is only one man who can help him; Tom Jackman, but Jackman hasn't been seen in years, not since his encounter with Ms Utterson, and when the TARDIS stops working, there is only one man who can find Jackman, if he's still alive; Sherlock Holmes. Rated T because there may be violence. Especially with Hyde involved.
1. Prologue - In the Library

This will be a three-way crossover, please enjoy.

**Prologue - In the Library**

The Doctor was not well. Sadly, even with his advanced intelligence, he could not work out what ailed him. He was, at that moment, sitting in the TARDIS library, reading through a psychiatry book.

For several weeks he had been having blackouts, and when he woke up he would be somewhere totally different, with no memory of what had elapsed in-between consciousness.

More than that, he had left written messages for himself during the blackout, which worried him. He had some kind of split-personality disorder, but nothing in the library seemed obvious to him. He needed to consult someone with experience in this field.

He looked down. There was a book that hadn't been there before. A paperback. He picked it up, then looked around, as if suspicious that this was some great cosmic joke at his expense.

The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, by Robert Louis Stevenson.

Although he was initially annoyed by the appearance of the book, it gave him an idea. There might be someone who could help…but the Doctor would need to do some searching of a different kind.

He left the library to track down Tom Jackman.


	2. Chapter One - The Missing Men

As you may have guessed, this is a three-way crossover between _Doctor Who_, _Sherlock_ and _Jekyll_. All three are BBC dramas written by Steven Moffat, and I have always wanted them to collide like this, hence the title of the story.

**Chapter One - The Missing Man**

The TARDIS landed with a violent crash. Inside, it went dark. The Doctor flipped a few switches, but there was no response. It had stopped working for him.

He smacked his forehead. Of course! The emergency protocols would shut down the controls if the TARDIS systems deemed that he had lost his mind. Well, that was a good start.

He stepped out through the wooden doors. In front of him was a large white house. He wandered up to the door, listening carefully. He could hear voices from inside, but he couldn't make out any words. He rang the doorbell.

* * *

Claire Jackman opened the door to see a very young-looking man, with floppy black hair and very pale skin. He wore an unusual set of clothes; a tweed jacket, a pink shirt and a red bow-tie. He smiled pleasantly, but she could see that he was worried.

"Hello, are you Mrs Jackman?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, now suspicious; the last time strangers had shown interest in her was when Klein and Utterson had tried to get hold of Hyde. "who are you?"

"I'm the Doctor," he replied. "It's difficult to explain, but I met your husband a while ago, and I need his help."

Claire sighed. "That won't be easy, come in."

The strange man nodded and came in. He looked to his left; in the kitchen were two young boys. Claire frowned. Klein and Utterson had been interested in the boys as well, she led the man away from her children and into the living room. "Sit down," she said.

The man sat, wearily. "I assume he's not at home."

"No," Claire admitted, "he hasn't been home in over a year.

The man sighed. "What happened before he left?"

Claire sat down opposite him. "How much do you know about my husband?"

"I know all about his little problem; the changes. Tom Jackman and Billy Hyde. I know that Hyde was killed, somehow, but Jackman wasn't." The Doctor paused, then sighed. "When I met him the first time he was still having…funny turns, but I haven't met him since he lost his other half. I need him because there's something wrong with me, and his experience could be hugely useful."

Claire nodded. "A little while after Hyde was killed, Tom got a detective to track down his mother, so he could find answers. He went to see her, about a year ago, and I haven't seen him since. We looked for him, of course, but he'd just vanished without a trace."

The Doctor nodded. "Well, thank you, I don't suppose there's anyone else I can talk to? Someone who can help me?"

"I have the address they found, where his mother lived at that time. I would direct you to Miranda Callendar, but she's stopped doing detective work so she can look after her son with Min."

"Detective work?" The Doctor suddenly grinned. "Did you say you had the address he was visiting when he vanished?"

Claire led him to a desk, where she retrieved a piece of paper. The address was scrawled on it. "Can you read that?" she asked, sheepishly.

"Yes, that's fine," he replied. "Thank you very much, Mrs Jackman. I can't promise that I'll find your husband, but I will do my utmost."

She smiled, a little worriedly, but it was a smile all the same. He grinned back. "I've had an idea, you see. I need help from your husband, but I can't find him, so I need help from someone else to find him. Consultancy has reached new heights. Can I use your phone?"

"Yes, why?"

"I need to get to London. Baker street, actually."


	3. Chapter Two - Baker Street

So, the third fandom enters the story. Basically, I couldn't be bothered to write out the whole "The Doctor...Regenerations...Time Lords...Galifrey...War...blackouts...Tom Jackman...Hyde...kidnapped...blah blah" thing.

I'm lazy, so what? I'm writing this, not you!

**Chapter Three - Baker Street**

John was away for the week with Mary. Which was fine. Sherlock didn't mind that. John was married, it was understandable that he would move out and spend more time with his wife.

He didn't mind at all.

He busied himself solving crimes. Not really, of course, he hadn't left the flat in days. That was nothing to do with John, he just hadn't felt like it. He constructed complex crimes in his head, then tried to solve it.

Thought experiments.

That was all well and good, but then the doorbell rang. He ignored it, knowing that Mrs Hudson would answer it.

* * *

The Doctor waited for some time outside the door. Nobody was answering. He pulled his sonic screwdriver out of his jacket and zapped the lock, slipping inside.

"Hello?" he called. There was nobody on the ground floor, but he was interested in 221B; upstairs.

He climbed the stairs, reaching the flat above. In a chair opposite was a dark-haired man, pale and gaunt, wearing a dressing gown and striped pyjamas.

"Very Arthur Dent, I like it," the Doctor remarked. "Are you Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock stood up and narrowed his eyes. "You got into the house without a key, how did you do that? Mrs Hudson isn't in, otherwise she would have said something. You're here to see me, but you're acting very cheerful, which means nobody has died. At least, not recently; I can tell from your eyes."

The Doctor managed a few syllables of confusion.

"You've got very old eyes, older than the rest of you. You've seen conflict, danger, death. Your stance indicates that, as well as the sadness in those eyes."

The Doctor sighed. "This will take far too long any other way, so I apologise in advance." He headbutted Sherlock. In the space of a few seconds, the consulting detective absorbed all the information the Doctor had given him; who he was, where he was from, the major events of his life and what he was doing on Baker Street.

Sherlock staggered back. His logical brain could not cope with such a vast quantity of information that defied his view of the world. He barely acknowledged the fact that the Earth orbited the sun, and here was a man from another world.

"I…" for once, Sherlock was lost for words. Then he realised; a case! "It's been a year, do you really think we can find Tom Jackman now?"

The Doctor shrugged. "The TARDIS has stopped working because of my…mental health. We can't go back in time and find him, so we have to track him down now."

"What makes you think he's still alive?" pressed Sherlock.

The Doctor sighed. "Hope."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You've got the address?" The Doctor waved a piece of paper. Sherlock snatched it and memorised the words in seconds.

The Doctor grinned. "You'll take the case?"

"Of course," Sherlock retorted, "I haven't got a blogger, but maybe men from space and Jackman and Hyde is something that doesn't belong on the internet. Come on, to the crime scene!"


	4. Chapter Three - A Dead End

Sorry I haven't posted in a while, I'm starting a band :D

**Chapter Three - A Dead End  
**

Sherlock and the Doctor got out of a taxi on the road where Tom's mother had resided. They approached number 78, which looked empty. The Doctor soniced the door and they entered. The floor and walls were covered in thick dust.

"I was right," remarked Sherlock, "all the evidence will be hidden under this layer."

"Well then," began the Doctor, "let's not focus on the crime scene. Think about the people."

Sherlock frowned. "Goldfish are not my area."

"No, but master criminals are," countered the Doctor.

Sherlock sighed. "From what I saw in your head, Doctor Jackman was a brilliant scientist, but he followed his heart over his head. No idea why, but there you go. Goldfish."

"Focus!" reprimanded the Doctor.

The Consulting Detective rolled his eyes. "Jackman comes in. Someone is waiting. We know from the wife that his mother lived here, or had been seen frequenting this place. The organisation who tried to get at Hyde last time…"

"Klein and Utterson," prompted the Time Lord.

"…either they tracked down the mother, just like Jackman did, and ambushed him when he finally came here, or the mother was working with them all along. Either way, we need to track down what remains of the organisation."

The Doctor nodded and turned to leave. Sherlock frowned.

"A normal person would ask me how I know it's Klein and Utterson again, rather than some other party."

"I'm not a normal person," replied the Doctor, opening the door. Sherlock followed him closely. "You've been in my head. I know about Jackman and I know about Klein and Utterson. No other group has knowledge of him and his condition. The human race thinks that _Jekyll and Hyde_ was fiction."

Sherlock nodded stiffly. "Where do we go to track them down?"

The Doctor sighed. "I don't know. I'm just clever, you're the one who does this as a job. Finding links, connections, between things."

Sherlock arched his brow. "You said there was another detective, the one Jackman hired her to find his mother."

The Doctor nodded, "Miranda Callendar."

"We should pay her a visit."

* * *

The two men walked down the garden path, approaching a house in the countryside. Sherlock looked the house up and down. "There's nobody in, but this house is totally insecure. If I wrote things down, which I don't, I'd keep them somewhere else."

"Really?"

"Would you leave information about Mr Hyde lying about in a house like that? I could break into that blindfolded with one hand behind my back."

The Doctor shrugged. "Shed?"

"Shed."

The shed contained chairs, tables and a few books; nothing much. The Doctor frowned.

"Well, it was worth a try…"

"No," said Sherlock, firmly, "there must be something here!"

The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver. The green tip lit up and he listened intently. "Yeah, there's a trapdoor under here, help me open it…"


End file.
